


red is the gold.

by sainttoxin



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Armitage Hux Lives, Arranged Marriage, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Force-Sensitive Reader, Forced Marriage, Homesickness, Not Canon Compliant - Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Political Alliances, Possessive Kylo Ren, Post-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Protective Kylo Ren, Slow Burn, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, The First Order Wins (Star Wars), Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:13:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29274516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sainttoxin/pseuds/sainttoxin
Summary: all your life, you've trained to be a agent of the force under an the QEXIAN ORDER, a small and ancient fellowship that is neither sith nor jedi.after their victory at the battle of exegol, the FIRST ORDER has assumed rule of the galaxy, and even INDAN, your neutral home planet, is not beyond its reach.the first order decides that an alliance with indan will not only strengthen their reputation in the eyes of the galaxy, but will also allow them to keep a close eye on this secretive order of force-wielders. it will also provide a solution to their latest dilemma: the supreme leader is in need of a spouse.and the indan senate has selected you for the job.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Original Female Character(s), Kylo Ren/Reader, Kylo Ren/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> first order won at exegol, snoke and palpy are dead, kylo is supreme leader
> 
> also general hux was never a spy and he lived bc i luv him
> 
> this is xreader BUT i don't use y/n. you have a name and i think it's a cool name so ur welcome. also reader is afab but i'm doing my best to keep gendered language to a minimum if used at all.
> 
> this is mostly an excuse to write one of my fave tropes plus more kylo/reader trash LOL. next chapter you'll meet the man himself !! i'd love to hear ur thoughts and feedback!!

_ The bailey beareth the bell away; _

_ The lily, the rose, the rose I lay. _

_ The silver is white, red is the gold; _

_ The robes they lay in fold. _

Indan is in the Belsmuth Sector of the Outer Rim, a temperate planet home to humans and an abundance of native species. Throughout the age of the Republic, it had declared itself a neutral entity, earning a reluctant place among the Separatists in the Confederacy of Independent Systems. The people of Indan have little care for politics and war, electing to stay quiet and separate. 

The First Order rose up and changed that. After their victory on Exegol, their reach spread throughout the galaxy and not even the Outer Rim was spared. Negotiations between the planet’s senate and the First Order had been short and productive, asserting the government's submission to the order. Trade routes and exports had been settled next, the historically isolated planet becoming a playing member of the galaxy for the first time since antiquity. 

One of Indan’s most striking features is the extraordinary number of those strong with the Force. Millenia ago, a fellowship had been formed by those with these gifts, and each generation saw another group of children recruited and taken to the high mountains to be raised and trained. They called themselves the Order of Qexia, ascribing neither to Jedi or Sith philosophy, but to a creed of balance and neutrality. The members of the Order are trained in light and dark in equal measure, seeing neither as superior. In some ways, this code had made them weaker than the Jedi or Sith– in other ways, stronger.

The tradition continues on today, the trained members of the Order either staying in the mountains to teach the next generation or rejoining society to serve however they are needed– often as peacekeepers, sometimes as advisors in the senate. Their role is prestigious, highly valued by the people of Indan.

The First Order is the first outside force that has learned of this fellowship. Fearing the possibility of this information travelling to rebel forces in other sectors, or perhaps fearing an uprising from the people of Indan themselves, the First Order decides to act. Indan’s vow of submission to the First Order is not enough. The Order wants leverage.

The small senate sits at a round table, joined by the blue holoprojections of the council of the First Order. Missing, notably, is Supreme Leader Kylo Ren– though that doesn’t come as a surprise. He doesn’t have much of a taste for bureaucracy and most of the galaxy knows it. 

“Senator Aekra, as you know, the council has been deliberating this problem with great consideration of your planet’s history.”

Senator Aekra, like many of her colleagues, has a private distaste for the First Order, and meeting here with them does not have her in good spirits. Still, she speaks calmly, eloquently, determined to maintain Indan’s history of impartiality.

“Yes, General, and we thank you and your council for your mindfulness. However, nothing on our end has changed. You know of everything we have to offer and control our exports, our labor. If there is a branch to be extended, we cannot fathom what more we could offer.”

The other senators mutter their agreements.

“You need not offer anything more than you already have. The council here has been in conference with the Supreme Leader and we have found a solution.”

“Then, General,” Aekra says, palms open on the table before her, “please enlighten us.”

“A marriage,” the General announces. “Your planet has only recently come to light on the galaxy’s stage. You’re well aware of your reputation– secretive,  _ formerly _ neutral. A union between the First Order and Indan could improve the public’s view of our rule. If even Indan will bow to the First Order and even offer up one of their own in alliance––”

“Then they should, too,” Aekra finishes.

“Precisely.”

“I needn’t tell you this, General, but we have no monarchy. There is no line of nobility for you to choose from.”

“I would disagree, senator. Perhaps there is no bloodline, but there is the  _ root _ of this problem, isn’t there?”

“The Order of Qexia,” she mutters, taken aback. Her protests, however, die before they’re spoken. The senate knows that there is no use in arguing with the First Order. This is not a proposition, but an order. Negotiating with the Qexians, though, will be another matter entirely. The senate may have sacrificed neutrality for security. The same cannot be said for the Qexians. Aekra glances to the others before continuing on. “Of course, General. What are your specifications?”

“A young woman. This will be no easy task, so I’d advise you to find someone strong, someone who can handle the pressures of the position.”

“Yes, General. We’ll start the search at once.”

“Excellent. We look forward to seeing what candidates you have to offer. We will be in communication.”

“Thank you, General.”

With that, the holoprojections are gone. The troubled senators drop their careful masks, looking to each other in the silence. Aekra runs her hands through her hair and leans back in her chair with a sigh.

“I suppose we ought to contact the Qexians, then.”

Outside, it has begun to snow.

  
  
  
  
  
  


You were a child when the Qexian Order had taken you from your home and up into the mountains to begin your training, and your path had been no different from that of the other children to join the Order. From a young age, your strength in the Force had been apparent. Your parents wrote the Qexians to inform them, and after a period of observation, you’d been transplanted to the temple. The move had been difficult, traumatic, but you eventually forgot the life you left behind and fully devoted yourself to the Order’s teachings. Your days were filled with meditation, classes, practice, and all manner of training.

You were a teenager when you took the journey to find a Kyber crystal. They formed in caves systems deep in the mountains, and you’d been sent alone and told not to return until you’d found the one that called to you. It took weeks of navigation and camping, but the nights you spent by a fire deep inside the mountain had been some of your most enlightening. Something down there called to you, and eventually you found it, a beacon embedded in the wall of some ancient chamber.

Upon your return, you were met with celebration. You could build your lightsaber. You were a Qexian.

Strong in your training and successful in academics, you could have been a perfect pupil if not for your constant struggle with subordination. You’d always had a mind of your own and that never went away, your teachers eventually accepting it as an inherent part of your personality and only cautioning you not to let your rebellion control you. Of course, at times, it  _ did _ , and you’d seen your fair share of trouble.

Now, though, in your twenties and nearing the end of your training, you think you’ve got a handle on it. You are still fiercely independent and deeply resistant to control by any force beyond your own will, but you’ve matured. You know what battles to pick and when to stand up and fight. 

You’re sparring with a peer in the courtyard when one of the masters calls you inside. You hook your saber hilt to your belt while promising to come back and finish the fight as soon as possible, then follow the master into the temple.

You’re led to a meeting room you’ve only seen a handful of times, greeted by the sight of your instructors waiting for you. For a moment, you think they’ll announce your graduation, your assignment, the next steps of your life as a Qexian, but there is no air of celebration in the room. Each face is carefully composed, every energy stoic. 

When the door is closed behind you, one of the masters speaks.

“Nuvrei Saldo.”

Your full name is reserved for significant events, and though you’ve been trained to keep your composure, you can’t help but dread whatever they’ve got to tell you. You nod your acknowledgement. “Yes, master?”

“We’ve been tasked by the senate to select one of our own for an incredibly unique opportunity–– the first of its kind that Indan has ever seen.”

Already, your heart is racing and you aren’t yet sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing. Still, determined to prove the success of your training, you remain still and stoic. The master continues on. 

“This assignment calls for someone young, intelligent, powerful in the Force, well trained. . . but, most importantly, someone with great inner strength. Someone adaptable and willing to sacrifice self for the good of the people. Among our masters and students, we’ve selected you as the best candidate.”

At this point, you’re completely lost as to what they could possibly be asking of you, but it’s becoming increasingly obvious that it may not be an enviable position. Still, there’s a more pressing issue at the front of your mind.

“Masters,” you say, careful in your wording of the next part. “You’ve called this an assignment. Does this mean my training has come to an end? Am I. . . ?”

“Graduating? In a sense. We are confident that you’ve been adequately trained for what lies ahead of you, though you will no longer bear the title of Qexian.”

_ That _ hits you like a ton of bricks and nearly knocks the air out of you. Your composure cracks, if only minutely, when confusion and hurt become plain on your face. You’ve been training your entire life to be a part of this Order, to be a chapter in the planet’s history, and shedding that title seems impossible. You shake your head, looking from face to face, incredulous.

“Apologies, masters, but–– I don’t understand.”

There’s a moment of heavy silence and you can gather nothing from your mentors’ demeanors. They are as calm as ever, if somewhat troubled. 

“You’re aware of Indan’s recent dealings with the First Order.”

_ Oh, no _ . You’ve got your own opinions about  _ that _ Order, that  _ dictatorship _ , and the possibility of their involvement in anything, much less  _ your _ life, fills you with a dread that you’re sure is palpable. 

“Yes, I do.”

“They’ve contacted the senate about arranging a union between the Supreme Leader and one of our Qexians.”

It feels as if the floor has dropped out from under you. “A  _ union? _ ”

“A marriage, specifically. You fulfill every requirement and, among the number of candidates we sent to the senate, you became the clear choice.”

“A marriage,” you repeat, fully descending into shock now. Even a few of the masters seem sympathetic, but helpless. You shake your head as you try to form any sort of coherent rebuttal. “You can’t be serious, that, that–– That’s impossible! The Supreme Leader? A  _ marriage? _ ”

They wait to speak again until your argument is over. 

“Nuvrei, we understand how shocking this is. We were surprised to receive the orders. We understand that this is an enormous task, but you must understand and appreciate that it is the highest honor in the galaxy.”

“Honor!” you scoff, shaken to the core.  _ Marriage _ . The word plays over again and again in your mind. “Master, y-you–– I can’t, this is–– I don’t––”

“I suggest you go to your room to meditate on this until dinner. Someone will be in shortly to fill you in on the details.”

Part of you wants to stand your ground and firmly tell the masters  _ no _ , you will  _ not _ be marrying the Supreme Leader, that  _ dictator, _ actually, but the rest of you wants to run, and that’s the side that wins. You hesitate for just a moment, unsure, but finally bow and utter a curt thanks to the masters before leaving the room. When you’re out of their sights, you break into a sprint for your room, brushing past other pupils in the halls and leaving them confused at the sight. 

In your room, you slam the door behind you, heart pounding in your ears. That terrible word echoes again. Marriage. Marriage. Marriage to Kylo Ren. The extent of your knowledge on him is the crimes of the First Order and what few glimpses you’ve seen of him, masked and caped, looking more shadow than human in all black.  _ Is _ he human? You can only assume so. Suddenly lightheaded, you take a seat on the edge of your bed but buzz with energy, questions, confusion.

Out of everyone, they’d chosen you.  _ Why? _ You know your worth and you’re confident in your abilities, but there are pupils and masters stronger than you, smarter than you, hell, more beautiful than you. Their names come to mind and some hopeful part of you considers arguing further with the masters, presenting other possibilities, but you know that this is not negotiable. They’ve deliberated and decided, and it sounds as if the senate has, too.

You fall back onto the bed and stare at the ceiling, recognizing the same patterns you’ve been memorizing since you first came to the temple as a child. You knew you might have to leave eventually, but only to relocate to one of Indan’s cities. Nothing could have prepared you for this. Your whole life is in this room, with its plain walls and little bed and chest of belongings. It’s humble but it is home, and it’s  _ yours _ . Giving it up for a position in the First Order just seems  _ wrong. _

And that’s optimistic. An arranged marriage doesn’t exactly summon images of political power, rather a wife to the Supreme Leader, someone to produce heirs and submit to his command. The thought makes you shudder–– as if dominating the galaxy and corrupting your planet’s moral code hadn’t been enough, he had to come for you personally.

Though you’ve been taught balance and acceptance, though you’ve practiced approaching every situation with careful consideration of all sides, this seems like an impossible feat. Part of you hopes that this is some sort of final test before your graduation, but you know that not to be true. This is real. It’s real and you have to come to terms with it.

With a sigh, you roll onto your side and, holding your pillow, allow yourself to cry.

You stay in your room until the sun goes down and don’t bother to go to dinner. The thought of facing others when you can barely keep your composure alone is too overwhelming. Everything after the meeting with the masters goes by in a blur, as if it’s something happening to someone else and not you.

A master comes to tell you the details and the logistics. The following days are spent in specialized lessons, refreshers on Indan’s history and all you need to know about galaxy politics. With each passing day, you steel yourself, determined to be strong, to face the First Order, to make your masters proud. When your academic preparation is complete, representatives from the capital come to bring you down the mountain. It’s a short process, your only possessions fitting easily into a trunk that is loaded into the ship with ease. The farewells to you masters and fellow students feels too simple, too short, barely suited for an event so monumental to you– but you just bow, embrace the ones you are closest to, receive parting wisdoms from the masters, and board the ship. If the representatives notice your tears, they show no sign.

In the capital, you’re put up in a room meant to house senate members who travel great distances to fulfil their duties. You spend another few days between senate briefings and tailor’s appointments, and you aren’t sure which is worse: trying to commit every bit of information to memory or being prodded and measured for hours on end. 

And through it all, you buzz with anxiety for what’s to come. At night, you review everything you need to know and let your mind wander to hypotheticals– what will your new life be like? What exactly will your role be among the First Order? Will you be respected or disregarded? You wonder about what facilities they may have for training. The idea of enduring everything without a proper place to blow off steam with your lightsaber is dreadful. You wonder, too, what your life as the Supreme Leader’s spouse will be. You wonder about the living arrangements,  _ sleeping _ arrangements particularly. Will you be made to share a bed? You don’t spend too much time on the Supreme Leader himself, having already resigned yourself to the idea of a loveless marriage. There’s no use in getting your hopes up for anything gentle or kind from a man like that.

It takes you hours to fall asleep each night, and even when sleep does come, it is plagued by vivid dreams and nightmares.

And finally the day arrives to leave Indan. To begin your new life. Despite the uncertainties and the fear, you feel as prepared as you can be. The senate seems to have confidence in you, and you hope your masters do as well. You wonder when you may see them again, but aren’t optimistic that it will be anytime soon. Perhaps never again.

On the day, you are dressed in an ensemble that lies somewhere between traditional Indan ceremonial attire and Qexian garb. Your hair is pulled into intricate braids and fastened with glinting silver replicas of native Indan flowers. Most of your skin is covered by thick fabric of white and blue, bodice and sleeves made to fit you perfectly. Your skirts and thick cape trail behind you, and you hope that the chill of the Indan mountains has sufficiently prepared you for the cold of space. Finally, and most importantly, your lightsaber hangs from the back of your belt, its weight comforting you as you await the transport to the  _ Supremacy _ , the First Order’s mobile headquarters.

The transport arrives with a crew of stormtroopers and a representative from the Order who introduces himself as General Hux. When you greet him, you’re careful to keep your expression neutral, calm. After formalities between him and the senate, he leads the way aboard and you follow, holding your head high. You do not look back when the ramp closes for fear that the final view will bring tears to your eyes. All your farewells have already been said, all your arrangements made.

Now, you can only wait as you leave Indan ground for the first time, blue sky giving way to the abyss of space.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I present to you the Supreme Leader and Empress of the First Order.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a lil shorter and still building up BUT there is much more action to come,, and much more kylo B)
> 
> twt: robertjfett  
> tumblr: mezzobee  
> aes board: https://tinyurl.com/3mrrot97

Hyperspace is quieter than you’d expected. Neither the General nor the troopers make any attempt at small talk, and for that, you are grateful. Watching starlight streak by has enchanted you, given you something interesting to look at while you ready yourself for the ceremony.

It isn’t long before the ship jumps out of hyperspace and into view of the _ Supremacy _ . It’s a foreboding thing, conjuring images of some ancient beast or monument buried in stone. Your new home. You remind yourself to breathe.

The transport lands smoothly on the hangar and the General leads you to the ramp, offering a hand that you do not accept. Stepping onto the hangar, you’re greeted by a small welcome party of officers, some you recognize from holoprojections. The clear leader, a handsome woman in white uniform, steps forward.

“Greetings, Nuvrei Saldo. Grand Admiral Sloane. Allow me to be the first to welcome you to the  _ Supremacy _ ,” she says, warmer than you’d expect from someone of her rank.

“It’s an honor,” you reply. It’s the first you’ve spoken since leaving Indan, and you’re careful to keep your voice steady. Calm. 

“The honor is ours. Please,” she says, beckoning you forward. “Come with me. The ceremony will be in the throne room.”  
_The throne room._ This is suddenly very, very real. You follow the Admiral’s lead, head high and back straight. Noble. Behind you, troopers carry your chests from the transport and disappear with them. Again, your mind wanders to living arrangements before you force yourself back to the present. It’s almost time.

In the halls, you pass troopers that don’t acknowledge your presence and some officers that do, if only in double-takes and nods. The ship is massive, far bigger than you could have imagined, bigger, even, than any building you’ve been in. The journey from the hangar takes time, a quiet tension growing in you all the while. In all your years of training, you never thought your first great quest would be something so foreign, so bureaucratic. You’d imagined lightsaber duels or journeys deep into the wilderness, not this.

Something else grows with the tension, a sense of something dark and unfamiliar, conflicted and dreadful. It weighs heavy on your mind and is impossible to place until your party comes to great doors that slide open to admit you into a red room––

The throne room. It’s  _ him _ . That feeling is his energy, something malevolent that rolls off of him in waves and leaves an acrid taste in your throat.

He rises from the throne when you enter. The grand admiral announces your name and titles but you scarcely hear her, captivated by the Supreme Leader.  _ The great Kylo Ren _ . No skin is uncovered by black– Black clothes, cloak, gloves, helmet. With a quiet prompt from the grand admiral, you begin to cross the room to meet him. All you can gather from appearances is that he’s tall and broad, as expected, but you aren’t quite struck by his size until you’re standing before him. You are not accustomed to feeling small and you are not weak by any means, but he towers over you like an immovable force. For the first time since your arrival here, your practiced stoicism threatens to fracture.

He’s overwhelmed you so much that it isn’t until you’ve taken your place before him that you notice the rest of the room– guards and knights lining the walls. More high-ranking officers of the First Order standing near holoprojections of senators from your own planet and officials you don’t recognize, perhaps ambassadors or other First Order allies. 

And at the foot of the throne stands Kylo Ren, and you before him. 

An officer steps forward and begins to speak.

“Senators, officers, and allies, we gather today to officiate a union unlike any that have come before it.”

Aside from muttered agreements among the small audience, the room is quiet. The speech goes on and you find yourself drifting, focused instead on the man before you, peering into the darkness of his mask and finding nothing. You wonder if he is looking back. You wonder what he thinks. There’s a temptation to lower your eyes, to fidget and grow restless, but you remain steady, forcing yourself to keep your gaze fixed. You are both still as statues, each hiding behind a mask, though yours is much different. All the while, the officer waxes poetic about the grand rule and strength of the First Order over the galaxy and how this union will usher in a new era, a new bloodline–– the implication turns your stomach. It takes a moment to remember to breathe. 

This is your wedding,  _ your _ wedding, but there is no air of romance or excitement. There are no flowers aside from the metal replicas in your hair. In this room of red and black, there is only the sterility of political procedure. Only the First Order wrapping its greedy hands around another corner of the galaxy. You can’t linger on that thought for too long or the bitterness will shift quickly towards grief.

You’re snapped back to the present when the officiant addresses you directly.

“Nuvrei Saldo of Indan, will you uphold the rule of the First Order and serve the Supreme Leader through this union?”

“I will,” you say, your voice steady and sure. Your hands shake and you ball them into fists.

“Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, will you continue your rule of the First Order and uphold the arranged treaty with Indan through this union?”

“I will.” His voice, though filtered, echoes in the quiet of the room and seems to strike everyone still for just a moment. 

“Senators, officers, and allies,” the officiant says, turning away from the two of you, “I present to you the Supreme Leader and Empress of the First Order.”

Applause erupts from the small audience and one by one, those who attended via holoprojection each speak their farewells and flicker away until only First Order officers remain. And Kylo Ren. And you. The room is still, waiting, until the Grand Admiral speaks.

“Captain Barrdesh,” she says, and a Chiss woman steps forward. “Escort the Empress to her quarters.” Then, to you: “You’ll have time to settle in and familiarize yourself with your rooms.”

You nod your thanks to her and then look to the Captain. There seem to be many moving parts at play here and you can only follow along, unsure of what you _ could  _ do even if you did choose to rebel. The Captain leads the way to the door, but you hesitate to follow, first turning again to the Supreme Leader. Kylo Ren.  _ Your husband _ . You stall there a moment, the air stiff and much too quiet. Will he be joining you? Is there anything proper to say on your behalf? To be safe, you only bow before straightening again and looking him in the face– the mask. 

You open your mouth to speak, but nothing seems to come. There isn’t anything to say. Thinking better of it, you stop, lower your eyes, and turn to follow the Captain.

He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t follow. But as you stride to the door, cape flowing behind, you feel his gaze boring into your back. As you exit, you hear the Grand Admiral start to speak about meetings with the General, work to be done on the bridge. After this, the most pivotal moment of the First Order, of your life, perhaps his, it seems that he’ll only carry on as usual. Perhaps that will be the nature of all of this and you should follow suit. Your training in stoicism may soon become your default, but had you expected anything different? There had been some small part of you that had been. . . what? Optimistic? Hopeful that even he could be capable of human emotion, that your marriage might be something to enjoy rather than endure?

You scold yourself for even allowing the thought. Foolish. 

The walk to your quarters reveals more of the massive ship, each corridor nearly identical. You wonder how anyone navigates without getting lost and how long it might take you to figure it out. Similarly to the quiet transport to the  _ Supremacy _ , the captain guiding you offers no conversation and, again, you’re grateful for the quiet. She leads you to a guarded door and gestures for you to enter. She does not follow, but stands in place in the corridor.

“These are your quarters, adjacent to the Supreme Leader’s. Your things have been brought in. Do you have any questions?”

Questions? Of course you have questions, you have thousands– but all you offer is a silent nod, unsure if you should dismiss her or say goodbye or remain silent. “No, Captain,” you finally decide on, levelling your gaze. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Empress,” she replies, and then, after a polite nod, starts off the way she’d brought you. The door slides shut, leaving you alone for the first time in what feels like years. You turn to face the room and take a deep breath, slouching on the exhale. You roll your shoulders, your neck, still weighed down by ceremonial garb but feeling much lighter away from the scrutinous eye of strangers. You start to wander, taking in your accommodations. Your home.

Everything is much more sterile than you’re used to– all white and black and metallic, lights bright and nothing like the sunlight you’ve spent your life under. The room you’re in now seems to be a sitting room of sorts, appropriate for visitors or even casual meetings. Beyond that, a bedroom. There’s a bed, much larger than your old one, the trunk you’d brought along set at the foot. The Indan council had sent along a few more trunks of traditional clothing, but a look into the closet reveals that it’s already half-full of attire for a wide range of settings– almost all black.

The luxury, the modernity, the aesthetics– it’s all foreign enough to dizzy you. Overwhelmed, you take a seat at the edge of the bed, almost nauseated by it all. In just a day, you’ve gone from a student on an unknown planet to Empress of the First Order.

The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur. You empty the trunks, hanging up clothes and trying to imagine what settings you might wear them in. You explore your quarters further to find a spacious bathroom and a smaller workspace with a desk that sparks optimism about your role here. Trophy wives don’t need desks, but politicians do. There are books, too, and you spend a while flipping through them and setting aside the ones that capture your interest.

All the while, you wait, but for what, exactly, you can’t be sure. For someone to fetch you. For someone to come tell you what to do. For Kylo Ren to come and properly introduce himself, or to–

What? Consummate the marriage? You’ve never even seen his face, have  _ barely _ heard his voice, and you aren’t exactly intimately  _ experienced _ . This is a line of thought you’ve been trying to avoid, but the issue becomes more pressing as time passes and eventually fills your thoughts. You’re more nervous than anything, even frightened– He doesn’t seem like the gentle type, and he’s big. Strong. Hypothetical thoughts of fear and pain only worsen your anxiety, and eventually you can focus on nothing else.

Evening falls and you prepare for bed, finally stripping yourself of the heavy garments and placing your lightsaber close to the bed. In the bathroom, you pull each pin from your hair and line them up on the counter, the metal tinkling softly against black granite. The sight of familiar flowers triggers an unexpectedly strong kick of homesickness that you can only breathe through, not allowing yourself to cry. Not yet.

You draw a bath and indulge in the variety of soaps and oils provided. The water is almost hot enough to scald and you close your eyes, reclining in the steam as each muscle unwinds. The nerves persist, but you do your best to remain calm. Afterwards comes the painstaking decision as to what to wear to bed, either something comfortable and familiar or luxurious and beautiful, or perhaps nothing at all. You settle, eventually, on a silken gown, embellished enough to catch the eye but soft enough to sleep in. 

And still, you wait for him, unsure if he plans to come to you at all.

It’s while you’re brushing your hair at the end of the bed that you feel it again, that dark, oppressive energy you’d first detected as you approached the throne room this morning. Your breath catches as it approaches, as  _ he _ approaches, and you rise, standing in the bedroom doorway, eyes fixed on the entrance.

You focus on his energy, feeling him come closer and closer until he must be just outside. Goosebumps spread over every inch of you, the hairs at your nape standing up as you wait.

But nothing happens. Nervous but much too anxious to stay still for much longer, you take a step forward into the sitting room, slowly approaching the door. Kylo Ren is on the other side. He must be– but what is he doing?

After a moment’s consideration, you decide to venture forward in the Force, feeling for him, his mood, his mind––

Something snaps you out of that line of thought so violently it takes a moment to realize what’s happened. He’d felt you. He shut you out. And now you feel his presence receding off towards his own quarters.

You realize you’ve been holding your breath.

He remains close enough to be perceptible, but just barely. You wait by the door for a few minutes, but it becomes apparent that he won’t be calling on you tonight. The solitude is relieving and worrying in equal measure– had you made a mistake? When  _ will _ the two of you meet?

You find yourself too tired to pursue those possibilities much further. You switch lights off behind you as you make your way to the bed.

Through the port in your bedroom, space is vast and dark and silent. As you wait for sleep to come, you wonder which, if any, of the points are Indan, shining from lightyears away. You wonder if they’re thinking of you. 

You wonder if the Supreme Leader is looking into the same abyss. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> school's kicking my ass so i know i'm updated a lil slow on this and my other fic!! but i love writing these and i promise there's more to come, even if it takes a bit longer than usual lmao. feel free to keep up w me on socials and geek out about sw and everything else!!
> 
> as always feedback is appreciated!!

**Author's Note:**

> twt: robertjfett (i post art here and will probs eventually post art for this, i've already got concepts in the making)  
> tumblr: mezzobee  
> aesthetic board: tinyurl.com/3mrrot97  
> playlist to come!!


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